The Undercover Mother_A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy about love, friendship and parenting

by Emma Robinson

  Jenny sucked up the last of her sickly sweet concoction, making a louder noise than was polite: soft drinks never lasted long. Lucy had known for a month? But Eva had only told Jenny this week.

  ‘Another drink?’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ The other problem with soft drinks: they were too boring to drink more than one. ‘I’ve got a lot to finish before I leave today. If we’re done playing nicely for Eva’s benefit, I’ll get back to it.’

  ‘Sorry. No can do.’ Lucy flicked her hair. ‘Eva said she would meet us here to firm up on the last few details of the handover. She’ll be here shortly.’

  Jenny groaned. She was stuck. ‘I’ll have an orange juice, then.’ If she had to stay for another soft drink, she may as well get the benefit of its laxative properties.

  Lucy gave their order to a young waitress, who she treated like her best friend in the whole world. Maybe she was going to be good at this networking lark. She continued to smile broadly when she turned back to Jenny.

  ‘This might make you laugh. There’s a rumour going around that you’re going to write a column about being a mother.’

  Word travelled fast. Jenny folded her arms. ‘Actually, that’s true.’ Lucy’s smug smile was unbearable. ‘Of course, it requires an experienced journalist to take the mundane and make it interesting.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘Of course. Of course. But babies? Will you have enough to write about to keep a column going? Don’t they just lie there doing nothing?’

  Jenny had had much the same thought herself at the antenatal class. But she didn’t need to have enough to keep the column going for very long; just long enough to prove to Eva that she could carry on writing after she’d had the baby. As soon as she was ready, she would swoop back in and take back ‘Girl About Town’ from under Lucy’s pert little nose.

  ‘Oh, yes. You’d be surprised.’

  Lucy lifted her gaze over Jenny’s shoulder and towards the door. ‘Speaking of surprises…’

  ‘Jenny!!!!’ They all came in together: Brian, Maureen, even Eva. One of the girls from advertising was almost completely obscured by helium balloons emblazoned with nappy pins and storks.

  ‘Did you know about this?’ Jenny hissed under her breath at Lucy.

  ‘Of course! You didn’t think I actually needed your help, did you?’ Lucy leaned back on her stool as if she were getting ready to enjoy the show.

  * * *

  In bed that night, Dan was moaning about going back to the antenatal class. ‘After last week, you said it was a waste of time. You promised we didn’t have to go back.’

  Jenny stopped fighting with her maternity pillow and turned on him. ‘That was before my lunch with Lucy. I need something juicy to get this blog going, and I haven’t got a clue where else to get it.’

  She didn’t say that she was starting to worry that there was no such thing as juicy material in the maternity sphere. There had to be an angle. Ruth’s story about peeing on her shoes whilst taking a pregnancy test was mildly amusing, but it wasn’t going to have Eva begging for Jenny’s return.

  Dan got out of bed and helped her to fit the long, sausage-shaped pillow under her bump. ‘Haven’t we got to watch a video of a birth tomorrow? I am not looking forward to that.’ He pulled the quilt over her.

  Now that she was wrapped around the pillow, she wouldn’t be moving again any time soon. ‘Well, you’ll have the live performance to deal with soon, so you’d better get used to the idea.’ Actually, Jenny wasn’t desperate to watch it, either; she’d never even made it through an episode of Casualty with her eyes open – and that blood was fake.

  ‘What did you think of the other couples?’

  Dan shrugged. ‘They seemed all right.’

  ‘Didn’t you think the women were all rather…’ She searched for the word. ‘Mum-ish?’

  Dan laughed. ‘What did you expect? You’re one of them now, Jen, don’t forget. Can we go to sleep? I need at least eight hours if you’re forcing me to watch one human being emerging from another tomorrow.’ He gave her a goodnight peck on the lips and turned over with a long sigh.

  One of them? Did he think she was going to change into some kind of matronly stereotype the minute she gave birth?

  The more Jenny thought about writing the blog, the more she realised what a good idea she’d had. She’d show everyone how you could have a baby and a life.

  Now she was still, the baby began its nightly exercises. She felt a small bump move across her abdomen. Was that a hand or a foot? It still filled her with wonder that there was a tiny human being in there. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. ‘Hello, baby,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll show them all, won’t we?’

  Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about the birth film. If only someone could invent Ruth’s idea, and they could beam the baby out of her, Star Trek style. Up until then, she’d managed to avoid thinking about the actual birth, but tomorrow she was going to have to face it in full colour.

  Chapter Five

  Up until now, I’ve avoided looking into too much detail about the actual birth. So you can imagine my delight when Antenatal Sally started producing medical equipment which looked like evidence from a GBH trial. Long metal sticks to break your waters, forceps which belong on a BBQ and head thermometers that hook onto a baby’s halfway-born head. (I had been hoping for a baby at the end of all this, not a nine-pound carp.)

  There is even a device that gets suctioned onto a baby’s head like a sink plunger to pull them out if they get stuck. Now I’ve got a vision of my baby’s birth turning into an ER version of The Enormous Turnip: one of these contraptions stuck between my legs whilst the doctor pulls it, and the nurse pulls him, and the cleaner pulls her and…

  From ‘The Undercover Mother’

  * * *

  Day Two of Antenatal and, due to the baby having an emergency need for a bacon sandwich, the class had already started when Jenny and Dan arrived. Antenatal Sally ushered them in.

  ‘We’re splitting into two groups to start with. Daddies over there, please.’

  Jenny squeezed Dan’s hand in an attempt to convey solidarity, then joined the other mums. Gail, Antonia and Ruth were on chairs; Naomi was perched on a huge inflatable ball, rolling her pelvis backwards and forwards. Jenny was tempted to give her a little nudge.

  ‘We’ve got to sort these cards into priority order.’ Ruth pointed at a set of laminated cards, curling at the edges. ‘For the first few weeks after the baby’s born.’

  After the baby was born? Jenny was still getting her head around the whole birth thing. What else was there? She picked up the card nearest to her. ‘Taking a shower? Is this a joke one?’ Why the hell wouldn’t you have time for a shower if you were home all day?

  Naomi had started gently bouncing up and down on the ball. Her bangles jangled. ‘Life can be unpredictable with a newborn. You can’t cling to old habits. We need to embrace the changes.’

  Jenny had an urge to embrace Naomi around the neck. Who’d made her a Motherhood Master?

  Ruth picked up a card which read ‘HOUSEWORK’. ‘I vacuum and clean every day. I can’t imagine not doing that.’

  Cleaning? Well, that one could scoot itself to the bottom of the list. Maybe there were benefits to some of these ‘changes’.

  ‘Just get a cleaner, darling.’ Antonia didn’t look like she spent much time with a duster in her hand. Gail raised a judgemental eyebrow behind her back.

  ‘“Meeting friends” can go towards the bottom of the list.’ Naomi stopped bouncing and sat cross-legged on the floor, her arms encircling her bump. ‘Those first few weeks I want it to be just me, John and our baby, so we can really bond.’

  Staying at home for weeks? Was she completely mad? That card was going right at the top of Jenny’s list. ‘I’ll need to see other people. I’d go insane stuck indoors on my own every day.’

  Gail nodded. ‘Me, too. Although I’ll only have two months to fill. Then I’m back to work.’ She was dressed more cas
ually today, but her smart trousers and collared maternity shirt were a far cry from the jersey dress stretched to breaking point that Jenny was wearing. She must have spent a fortune on her clothes.

  ‘Goodness, that’s early.’ Antonia tucked her thick blonde hair behind her ears and then placed her hands back in her lap. Her linen dress barely creased. ‘Geoff would hate me to have a job whilst the baby is small. What does your partner think about you going back so soon?’

  Before Gail could reply, Antenatal Sally reappeared to see how they were doing.

  Jenny had a sudden need to stretch her legs, which took her conveniently close enough to the group of dads to eavesdrop. They had a selection of baby catalogues and had had to make two lists: one for necessities, one for luxuries.

  She saw Dan flicking aimlessly through a Mothercare catalogue. ‘It’s pretty pointless asking us to make these lists. I don’t know about your wives, but mine has definitely been making all the decisions about stuff.’

  Bloody cheek. He had chosen which cot they’d bought. She had merely suggested that the white one would coordinate with more bedding options.

  Geoff agreed. ‘And there’s so much of it.’ He turned the pages of a John Lewis baby book. ‘A baby bath. What’s the point when you have a perfectly good bath already? A changing table? As if Antonia is going to bother trooping upstairs every time it needs a new nappy.’ He paused and looked closer at the page. ‘What the hell is a top and tail set?’

  David nodded. ‘It all has to match too, according to Ruth.’

  ‘Naomi and I have only got a small flat,’ said John. ‘I have no idea how we’re going to fit all these things into it.’

  ‘Well, you don’t need a baby bath.’ Geoff tapped the sheet of paper in front of them. ‘Put that in the luxury list.’

  David put his catalogue down and lowered his voice. ‘Have you been pram shopping yet?’ There was a unanimous groan. ‘It would have been easier to buy a new car.’

  ‘And cheaper,’ said John. ‘I’m trying to persuade Naomi to get a second-hand one.’

  The other three laughed. Dan clapped him on the back. ‘I admire your gumption, son. Good luck with that.’

  Geoff went back to his magazine. ‘What the hell is that?’ he asked, pointing at a breast pump.

  David peered over his shoulder. ‘That, my friend, will ensure that you don’t want to have sex with your wife for quite some time.’

  Jenny crept back to the mums.

  * * *

  When they joined up again, Sally handed out some more leaflets which she thought they might find useful. One of them was a series of eight different photographs of baby poo. The bacon sandwich Jenny had eaten suddenly seemed like less of a good idea. Number eight was bright yellow. Like psychedelic custard.

  John was amused. ‘Is this some kind of bingo game? Like those books your parents used to give you when you were on a long car journey and you had to tick the picture when you saw a cow or a letter box?’

  ‘Not quite.’ Sally smiled. ‘Just wait, you will be amazed at how interested you will be in your baby’s poo for the first few months of its life. You can tell a lot by the condition of a baby’s poo.’

  ‘You’ll be in your element, Jen.’ Dan nudged her. ‘It’s already like living with Gillian McKeith in our house.’ Jenny hit him with the leaflet as the others laughed.

  ‘Well, we’ve covered nearly everything now.’ Sally was back at the front, with a TV screen on wheels. ‘Get yourselves a drink and a biscuit and then we’ll finish up by watching a film of a real birth.’

  Time was running out if Jenny wanted to check out Antonia and Naomi. But Naomi had already begun an intense discussion with Antenatal Sally. Jenny overheard the words ‘perineum’ and ‘olive oil’ and shuddered, then followed Antonia out to the kitchen.

  ‘I’m not looking forward to this at all.’

  Although Antonia had reached the kitchen first, Jenny somehow seemed to be the one filling the kettle. Not for the first time that day, she longed fervently for caffeine. Or vodka.

  Antonia wrinkled her nose. ‘Me, neither, darling. It all sounds terribly messy. I’m assuming it’s too late for us to back out?’

  ‘Of the video? Or the actual birth?’ Jenny was only half joking. Maybe her first instinct to avoid too much birth information had been a good one. Antenatal Sally was doing her best to be reassuring, but there was no getting away from the fact that the baby inside Jenny needed to make it to the outside. Perhaps sooner than she was ready for.

  ‘I’m sure Naomi will know it all already. She’s clearly a cut above the rest of us in the preparation department.’ Antonia leaned back against the counter, her arms across the top of her bump. ‘She offered to lend me some books about “hypnobirthing” or something. Not really me, sweetie.’

  Jenny found the plastic container with the teabags. ‘That’s funny. That’s exactly what Gail said about you last week – that you were a cut ab— that you knew a lot.’

  ‘Oh, did she indeed? That’s very interesting.’ Antonia smiled to herself and tidied the cups on the worktop so that all of their handles pointed in the same direction. ‘She’s a curious character, don’t you think? I’m surprised she has time to give birth with such a tight work schedule. Do you work?’

  ‘I write for a magazine.’ Jenny started to make tea for herself and Dan. She didn’t want to talk about her job in too much detail. As soon as you told people you were a writer, they either clammed up completely or told you their life story. ‘Do you want two cups? What’s Geoff drinking?’

  ‘Don’t bother for him, darling. He can drink the insipid squash. We only just made it here on time today because he was out so late last night entertaining clients. Mind you, at least he’s here. Some people don’t seem to be able to get their baby daddy here at all.’

  Ouch. Antonia wasn’t afraid to go straight for the jugular. This was useful. A bit of tension made for good writing. Jenny just needed to direct it. ‘What’s this hypnobirthing of Naomi’s?

  ‘Goodness only knows. She kept talking about “visualising the pain” or some such hippy nonsense.’ Antonia browsed the assortment of tea bags with a well-manicured finger. Nothing met with her approval. ‘I’m not on board with all that “positive thinking” business. The only thing I'm positive about is that I want as much pain relief as I can persuade them to pump into me.’

  Naomi and John chose that moment to appear in the doorway. Jenny clenched her toes: had they overheard Antonia’s ‘hippy’ comment?

  Antonia wasn’t fazed. ‘I wouldn’t get too excited about the drinks menu,’ she told them. ‘Although there might be a couple of herbal sachets kicking around at the bottom which you’d like.’

  Naomi didn't seem to be aware that she was being mocked. She couldn’t have heard Antonia talking about her. ‘Oh, thanks.’ She let go of John’s hand so that he could refill the kettle. ‘This is wonderful, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m glad someone’s enjoying it. I need the loo, so I’ll leave you to it.’ Antonia winked at Jenny as she left.

  Jenny took a big gulp of her tea. ‘Mmmm, yes, it’s really interesting.’

  ‘John and I are so excited about it all,’ Naomi gushed. ‘The more we can find out, the better. I’d love to have done a longer course, but we couldn’t really afford it. I’m a yoga instructor and am self-employed, so we’re going to have to be a bit careful with money for the next few months till I can pick up my clients again.’

  Of course she was a yoga instructor. And quite free with her personal information too, which might be useful. ‘I see.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see the birth film. Although I have watched quite a few births online already.’ Naomi’s eyes shone.

  Jenny gagged on her Rich Tea biscuit. ‘Have you? Is it as bad as I’m expecting?’

  ‘No, it’s beautiful, isn’t it, John?’ She smiled up at him. John looked like a man who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

  With her usual perfect timing, Antenatal
Sally appeared at the door. ‘I’m just about to press play!’

  * * *

  Everyone sat in shocked silence, their expressions ranging from disbelief to abject terror. Everyone except for Naomi. She was beaming. Was she for real?

  The birth film had left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Nothing Jenny wanted to imagine, anyway. A series of clips had followed an incredibly calm woman and her overly supportive husband at each stage of labour. It started in their home where they drank tea and chatted as if they had all the time in the world, and ended in a hospital delivery suite. Panting. Groaning. Unwanted close-ups of the baby’s ridiculously large head emerging from between its mother’s legs.

  Jenny pressed her hand to her mouth. Oh God. This was real. No way out. Why had she watched it?

  Antenatal Sally was still talking. Something about birth plans and what you should pack in your hospital bag.

  ‘Take plenty of make-up, darling,’ Antonia whispered. She didn’t look as if she was joking.

  ‘Did you just watch the same film as me?’ Jenny whispered back.

  ‘That sweaty woman looked horrific, sitting there holding the baby while her husband took photographs. Those pictures are going to be looked at for the rest of their lives. I do not want to look like that in mine.’

  Jenny looked from Antonia to Naomi to Antenatal Sally and then back again. Were all of these women insane? Screw breathing, bouncing on big balls and make-up. The only thing that might get you through that experience was a whole load of alcohol. Could you pack vodka in your hospital bag?

  A birth plan, though. That sounded good. Writing, at least, was something she knew she could do.

  * * *

  When Jenny began the birth plan that evening, however, Dan was less than enthusiastic. ‘Can’t we just wait and see how it goes?’

  Clearly, he hadn’t been listening to Antenatal Sally. If they didn’t get this written properly, who knew what might happen? ‘We need to tell the medical staff what we want.’